Dark Dreams
by deadsylifer
Summary: They were destined to come together, time after time, crashing and burning until they got it right, or it consumed them both


**Authors note: I woke up to this, just this, I don't know who this woman is, only that they had a gut wrenching past. I woke up feeling her pain, her love for him, her anguish at the way things were between them. I had to write it. It's been a long time, but it feels good. Enjoy.**

She woke slowly, drifting from the remnants of a good dream. She floated somewhere between awake and asleep; warm content, _safe_.

The weight across her hip shifted, pulling her closer, bringing her fully awake. He was pressed against her, holding her to him in his sleep. Her addled brain briefly registered this as the first time they had spent the night together. It should have made her angry, scared at the very least; but she felt the warmth in him, the strength, contenting.

His face was buried in her hair, his nose just beneath her ear, his breath hot across her neck. His palm, resting flat and low on her belly, was possessive and, damn, if it didn't feel _good_. Her heartbeat picked up, her body reacting to his unconscious cues. She squirmed, whether to get closer or make space between them she wasn't sure, and a low growl rumbled over her skin.

She froze. His lips were light, hot, against the curve of her shoulder. She closed her eyes, biting her lip, but was unable to suppress the shiver that worked down her spine. His fingers flexed, his hips ghosting against hers and the hard length of his grazing her ass. "You're awake."

He chuckled softly against her skin, his hips pressing firmly, his fingers slipping beneath her shirt, seeking. "I don't think I am."

"Gordon." It was meant to be a reproach, not a breathy near plea. Heat pooled, muscles clenched, she felt the familiar fire he touch brought to her body. He sucked lightly on the vulnerable skin between her neck and shoulder. She moaned softly, eliciting another growl from him in return.

"Are you going to stop me?" His fingers dipped into her waistline, impatient, but waiting. Teeth nipped her skin, his tongue soothing the offended flesh.

Her mind was hazy, confused by his touch, by her response. Overwhelmed by the onslaught of light caresses and soft kisses. She should stop him, scream at him. She should push him away, as he had her at their last encounter… She opened her mouth but what came out shocked even her. "Please…"

Something switched in him, his touch going from playful to possessive. He rolled her beneath him, his leg wedged between her thighs, pressing against her with just enough force to make his intentions clear. He braced his weight, looking down on her, his expression darkened with desire.

This was going to be a fight, she felt it in the very marrow of her bones. There was a darkness in him now, one she could run from or stand and face. Her free hand slid beneath his white shirt, her nails scraping lightly across his lower back. He arched, nostrils flaring.

His mouth crushed hers, his hand moving between them, roughly working the zipper and button free on her pants. She cried out against his lips, his fingers seeking, slipping inside her molten heat.

Her hips moved against his palm, she was powerless to stop the noises his touch pulled from her. Finally, gasping, she tore her mouth from his. "Jim, _please_!"

The next few minutes were a flurry of clothes being shed, skin touching, hungry mouths clashing. He wasn't gentle when he took her, his strokes deep, fast, hard. Her legs wrapped around his waist, she met his punishing thrusts with equal vigor. Her nails carved crescents into his shoulder as she clung to him, gasping, crying out his name.

When she came, she shattered like glass beneath him. He buried his head against her neck, following her to completion. She wasn't sure if the pounding was her heart, his or a combination of the two. But suddenly the noise was too much in her ears, the blood pumping too fast, too hot. His scent, the feel of him inside and around her, his breath coming in harsh pants across her skin…

She pushed him off her, away from her. She sat up, pushing the shirt down to cover herself. The jerk and rattle of the chain still cuffing her to the bed was like a slap in the face with ice water.

"Are you OK?"

The concern in his eyes, the soft caress of his fingers against her arm, suddenly felt suffocating. The room was spinning, tilting… She pulled her arm away. "Don't touch me!" She meant it to come out harsh, angry, confused would have even fit. The desperate whispered cry of it made her eyes widen, her skin pale.

A muscle in his jaw tightened, ticked. His eyes, light as a summer's sky just moments before, turned to hardened ice. He turned away, reaching for his discarded clothes. Pulling pants over his hips in angry jerks.

It was all ridiculous, really, she thought, almost hysterically. She had no self control with him, no sense to stay away. Time after time, they would hurt each other. She had seen it in his eyes before he had turned away, it clawed at her insides. He was a fire she was always drawn to, no matter how many times she got burnt. A magnet drawing her, making her feel like this man was her destiny, her home, but always repelling her when she got too close.

He pulled the cotton shirt over his ribs, stilled as it settled at his waist. "Did I hurt you?"

She could see the tension in his back, ramrod straight, hear it cracking in his voice. She thought he might have, had it not felt so damn _good_ to be beneath him, dominated by him. He certainly hadn't been gentle with her, part of her wanted to tell him yes. She wasn't some whore he could slam around, but somehow the aching muscles were a small consolation to the way she felt right now. She felt both used and guilty for using him.

"No."

He visibly relaxed, quietly letting out the breath he held. It broke her heart. She nearly reached out to him, but he stood, moving away from the bed, from _her,_ out of reach.

"Do you want a shower before I take you in." It wasn't so much a question. This wasn't her gentle Jim. Detective Gordon was back, cold and unyielding.

He had already rounded the room, uncuffing her. Now was her chance. She could try to over power him, try to run, try to… His thumb gently caressed the ring of purple bruises encircling her wrist where the metal had dug in. Her eyes flew to his. His brow creased. There were things he wanted to say, simmering just beneath the surface. His jaw clenched again. She pulled her arm away, her eyes falling to the floor, cradling her injuries against her stomach, as if to hide it from him.

"There's no window," he said gruffly, nodding toward the bathroom. He gave her space when she stood, but she could feel his eyes on her as she walked across the room and closed the door to shut him out.

Out of view, he sat heavily at the table, dropping his head in his hands.

On the other side of the door, she turned the water on, biting her knuckle to muffle the tears that came unbidden. The bruises on her skin were nothing compared to the ones on her heart.


End file.
